With A Little Bit of Luck
by PurtKlainFurtHellyeah
Summary: Kurt had always known he was special. He just didn't know how special he really was.
1. Hello, Hello

Kurt had always known he was special.

His voice. His immaculate skin. His impeccable style. His perfectly coiffed brunette hair.

They set him apart in the hormonal, pimple-ridden populous of William Mckinnely High. He was an oddity. He was alone. And he could deal with it simply because he had Mercedes. Oh dear Lord was that girl a God-send. Another diva, his other half and yet so completely opposite of him it was baffling.

Mercedes Jones was the yin to his yang. Where he was pale and creamy, she was dark and silky smooth. Where his voice was a crystal clear, counter-tenor Mercedes sang in a similar range but with enough gospel and sass to stop you in your tracks. She was every bit the diva that the Broadway-bound Kurt was and while they were both unsung heroes in their Glee club, they both knew that if they truly wanted it they could easily take Rachel on and threaten he place in the club as top-diva.

But alas, that would cause turmoil and drama in the club, of which they'd had enough of this year and while they were far from happy with the Jewish girls reign over the club, they were for the most part able to whether the storm. Occasionally they'd get sick of her and snap back but most of the time they simply spent time bitching to each other about it. Jokes like "the gnome isn't worth getting up set over" and "how can someone so small make me so mad" were often tossed around. Of course Rachel was one of theirs, a diva and a gleek, and they stuck together, the whole club did and so they stood up for from time to time and helped her clean up after getting slushied but that didn't mean they liked each other. That was simply something family did for each other. They didn't have to like each other to care.

But nevertheless Kurt was special. And that's what made him a target.

Noah Puckerman, Azizmo Adams, Dave Karofsky. They bullied him because they said he was a fairy. Because he needed to know that gay was not okay. That's what they said.

But Kurt knew it wasn't true.

They bullied him, pushed, shoved, tripped, hit and trashcanned him because they were scared. He threatened them with his top of the line, designer clothes and his fierce independence. They were intimidated by how open he was with himself, how honest he was with himself.

They were scared because he as the truest form of a badass, able to control his emotions and cut someone down to nothing, though he did with his words, glares and intelligence rather than physical strength(as if he had any). Nevertheless he was a badass, though he'd never call himself that. No, no. He preferred to be called a diva. Cause that's what he is and diva's had to suffer before they could thrive.

It was with that thought and sentiment that Kurt found the strength to wake up each morning, go running, eat and then head off to school, much like he was doing now. It was 5:30 at the moment and Kurt was grumbling sleepily about how his stupid alarm was a jerk and couldn't malfunction once and let him sleep in a little. Sighing he reached over and once his fingers found purchase on the pink, rubbery outer layer of the OtterBox on his Iphone, Kurt sat up, blinking a few times and then quickly punching in his password to shut the dumb thing up.

Finally after a few tries and being locked out once, Kurt's fingers gained enough dexterity to correctly punch in the number of his mother's birthday. It was just one of the small ways, Kurt strived to keep his mother alive, remembering her in the small things. Of course there were days he'd just open up all the drawers in her dresser and would sit in the attic for an long times, just thinking about her and life. He missed her more than words could describe and some days when he just need his mother he'd retrieve her clothes from the vacuum-sealed, airtight bags and would just bury her face in her favorite shirt, a beautiful white blouse with elegant lace embroidery. Kurt had thankfully inherited his mother's fashion sense rather than the plaid-shirt, jeans and a hat look his father had going on.

Finally awake enough to see clear, Kurt rubbed the sleep from his eyes before heading to his en-suite bathroom to splash water on his face and brush his teeth before he dressed and went for a run. Turning the faucet on, Kurt cupped his hands under the cold flow of water before splashing it in his face and nearly gasping when it his porcelain skin. Instantly blood rushed to his cheeks in an attempt to warm them, the water icy cold. Once again grumbling about how the stupid pipes in this hick-town of Lima always got to damn cold during winter, and how he couldn't wait to move somewhere with actual civilization, Kurt sighed and looked into his mirror. Playing with his hair slightly, he got it under control enough to be presentable for a run. Heading back to his room, Kurt slid on some black yoga pants that did wonders for his butt but made his thighs look fat(as if) and a pair of grey sweats he wore around the garage. They were stained a little but were still okay to wear in public, barring any rips that he couldn't see.

Slipping his pajama top off and throwing them into his hamper, he looked through his options. Checking his phone Kurt realized it was already almost six and he needed to hurry up. It was forty-degrees outside and so he slid on some light grey, long-sleeved under armor, a black thermal and a sweat-jacket. Grabbing a pair of head phones, Kurt got his sneakers on ASAP and was out the door, hooking his earbuds into his iPod and putting them in his ears.

He ran to a playlist consisting of Beyonce, Gaga, songs from Wicked, and a few songs Mercedes had suggested. Today was a two-miler but he had time and he felt like he could do it so instead of making a right which would eventually lead him back home, he continued straight, jogging at a steady, semi-fast pace. Looking about he took in the scenery around him. Grass, covered with soft icy or sometimes snow-like mush that at one point had been dew, was common on the front yards, the green lawns proof of the small, All-American values in each house. Values that consisted of gay being wrong and sinful, values that Kurt had long ago said "Fuck you very much" to.

Rounding a corner and deciding to run the last quarter mile of his three-mile-jog, Kurt took off, sprinting gracefully, cold air rushing past his face and filling his lungs with each breath but he didn't care. He used to love running around as a kid, having been a ball of energy in his younger days. Now he directed that energy to his devil-may-care-facade and his ice-queen persona that he kept up around every but his family and most of the Glee club, save Puck and Santana at times, and almost always Rachel.

As he neared his house Kurt was going to try to push faster when he suddenly became aware that he was being watched. And it wasn't just one of those feelings you suddenly got, where you looked up from your test or suddenly felt the need to check you surroundings.

No. This was decidely and pointedly different. This feeling was intuitive. Kurt didn't think he was being watched. He absolutely, one-hundred-percent knew it. He didn't know how and he didn't know why, but he just did. Slowing, though maybe running faster would've been smarter when one feels this, Kurt came to a stop at a corner, a black, yellow-lined gap of no more than ten-feet, if that, separating him from the corner that turned on his street. Looking about at the houses that surround his own, Kurt thought maybe he was being paranoid, but his gut was telling him that he wasn't and that there very much was someone watching him and so he turned his music off, wanting to be able to hear everything.

"Ummm... hello? Is anyone there," Kurt called out, scared out what he may hear in reply.

When there was no immediate reply, Kurt's body language relaxed on slightly before he started to step on the street, finally disbelieving that gut feeling. Shaking his head, Kurt was about to turn his music back on, relaxing, which was probably why he screamed when the sound of a confident, masculine "Hey Kurt" reached his ears..


	2. Something's Brewing Behind Those Eyes

"Hey Kurt."

Damn, he was gorgeous.

He had eyes like the man from the picture, presumably Kurt's father. They were blue, hazel, green and grey all boxed into one with these little random pieces of gold. But everything else was woman's. Boy had she been a looker. Her lips, her nose, her cheek-bones that were so damn high that they made the witch impossibly beautiful in the most classical way. They were all inherited by the boy in front of him. Long, thick, inky black eyelashes sprouted from his pale lids, and were so long they touched right under his eyebrows, making him think that the saying "Eyelashes are wasted on boys" wasn't true because if they could make the other boy look so damn beautiful then they definitely weren't a waste. His skin was impeccably pale except for his cheeks which were flushed in a delicious shade of red from exertion, cold and surprise.

Which was probably why the next thing Blaine Anderson heard was a loud shriek.

Kurt stumbled back, surprised and would've fallen if it weren't for Blaine's supernatural speed. In the blink of an eye the boy with the hazel and gold eyes was easily catching Kurt in arms toned and fit from his years of training at the Dalton Academy. A school for the boys that would someday live up to their duty to protect and serve their witch/wizard the best they knew how. Which was why Blaine was surprised when he got finally got his Calling. Not because he wasn't expecting it, hell he was stronger, faster, and smarter than most of the boys there. He was surprised because his witch was male.

Not impossible, but rare. Kurt's magic wasn't... the same as a sorcer's or a wizard's, the male counterparts of witch or sorceress. His magic was that of a witch. Wizards didn't have special gifts like Kurt did. And a good sorcerer's or sorceress's field of expertise was limited to potions and alchemy. Their magic outside of those two things was unreliable at best and dangerous at worst. Sorcerers and sorceress' that had been Turned however, well they were a witch's mirror image, subtract a soul and add Lorithian, a demonic spirit that would become their lover and Familiar.

But the point was, most Aelethiorium that were assigned to male partners were from Crawford's Institute for Girls, the female counterpart to the Dalton Academy. They were assigned to sorcerers and wizards though, again, it wasn't uncommon for them to be paired to sorceress' and witches as well. It was just more common that they got paired up boy-girl, boy-girl though Blaine definitely wasn't complaining... more like confused.

He however wasn't granted a whole lot of time to introduce himself though because just as he caught the other boy, slowing his descent to the ground, he was pushed away by the hands of whom he just saved from a rather painful fall.

"What the hell? Get off me!" Kurt exclaimed hands pushing against Blaine's chest, the contact making Blaine want to curl back into the boy but he didn't and so he shrugged acting as if he didn't care and checking himself, making sure his red bowtie was straightened out and his black silk, short sleeved button up was still tucked into his dark red skinny-jeans as he responded simply and smiling innocently, "Your wish is my command."

The male witch was powerful, that much he knew. He oozed it from his every pore and when Kurt accidentally made contact with Blaine's arm during his slowed fall, Blain had felt it. Hell if he could probably see it if he attuned his eyesight to that level of perception. But for now he wasn't going to start creeping on Kurt's aura, now that he'd been caught creeping on the beauty itself.

Speaking of, Kurt was soon on his feet staring the other boy down, giving him what Blaine was sure was the patented Ice-Queen. It was a glare that could stop anyone in their tracks and making them pause and think twice before proceeding. He knew that look. He used to use that look all the time when he was younger, though he usually added a bit of anger behind it. Kurt's was more cold and detached though it probably worked just as well, if not better. And yet all Blaine could do was cross his arms and smirk, looking unimpressed as he leaned against the street-light, his bare arm against the chilly metal. The cold didn't really bother anymore, neither than the heat, his body able to handle much, much, much, much worse than temperature-caused discomfort.

When he didn't shift or seem even a little bother by the glare Kurt was giving him, Kurt took a step forward, his voice dripping with icy, venom as he spoke, his hands on his hips. "Who the FUCK are you and why do you know my name?"

Oh no, no, no, no Kurt was too beautiful to innocent-looking to be filled with such fear and anger. Bad words would never look right coming from his mouth, Blaine knew that from the moment he saw his picture and that was why Blaine flinched when the other boy spoke. But he soon smiled, the other boy was hard to take serious in what he was wearing at the moment.

Visibly holding back laughter, Blaine grinned at the other boy and he too stepped forward a bit arms crossed and eyebrow quirked. "Hey, no need for foul language bro. I just moved here and I transferred schools. You're in my AP history class and I just wanted to say hi when I saw you running."

So far, so good. He wasn't lying yet. They did have classes together, or they would once school started, and he did live here, he was renting a room from the lady across the street from Kurt's house. He would live there alone until a better sleeping arrangement was... well arranged. The houses for sale here were for family's and his lived in the country just outside of Westerville in a beautiful home with thirteen bedrooms and fifteen baths, a giant kitchen, two living rooms, a dining room and a den, an outdoor pool, a tennis court, a basketball court and below ground bowling alley.

It was big and pretty and nice but it was fucking empty to be honest. He loved his family but his mother and father had issues and his brother was never around. Add to that that he was rarely home and now it would be even less and Blaine knew there wasn't much keeping his parents together. So he was kind of happy he'd got assigned when he did. Perfect timing.

However his witch didn't seem to think so, and he definitely wasn't happy. He hadn't said one thing about magic or anything. Maybe he was cautious, maybe Kurt didn't get a picture of him in his packet?

Stupid school reps, he thought, can't do one thing right.

"So Kurt, what Gifts do you have? Can I see them?"

There. That was straight and to the point. It would make the witch realize who he was without confusing him too much. Or at least it should have. The look on Kurt's face told him that, along with being weirded-out, scared and pissed, he was also confused. Eyes narrowing in confusion and more than a hint of grossed-out-ness, Kurt responded snappily, his voice ripe with irritation.

"I don't know what 'gifts' you're talking about but I'm not showing you anything." He paused and then added fiercely, "...And if Puck or Azizmo or that neanderthal Karosky put you up to this then tell them to back the fuck off and that sending in some pretty boy to mess and flirt with the fag is pathetic. If they want to be such pricks they can do it to my face."

And with that Kurt turned and started to walk away, nostrils flared and face red with anger leaving Blaine confused and with so many questions. Why was Kurt acting as if he wasn't a witch... were those guys... why would they mess with Kurt... And wait Kurt thinks I'm pretty?! It wasn't until he saw the other boy turning the corner onto their street that Blaine, hurried to catch up with him, closing the gap within two seconds.

* * *

Kurt didn't know who this boy was but he was starting to piss the diva off.

He wasn't really in the mood for that shit today. If Karofsky, Puck or Adams wanted to start shit with him they could do it at school with their own two hands. They didn't need to send some stupid, new kid to mess with Kurt's feelings. A stupid, hot, new kid who actually dressed to fit the part of gay-boy seducer quite well. But come on "Show me your gifts?" that was one of the dumbest things Kurt had ever heard. Nah. That guy was playing some game that Kurt wasn't going to get involved in...


	3. Dazed And Confused

**Author's Note:** So I realize that I've been updating daily and while I'd love to continue doing so it just won't happen as school picks up more seriously. That said I'll work my toushie of to post weekly. Anyways the usual disclaimer stuff, about me not owning any other the beautiful characters I like to play around with. In addition there's some language though its basically PG-13 so far. Also I'm new at this and I'd love a beta as well as some reviews just to see what others think and anything I could take in consideration. Maybe something you'd like to see that I could incorporate. Lol I dunno.

Anyyyyyways... as I was saying... If any constructive criticism you could give, questions you wanna ask or things you'd like see incorporated PM or Review(causes reviews are like food to the Inspiration Monster inside meh)!

* * *

Kurt had just passed Mr. Johanson's house, a little old German man who was sweet as could be when he wasn't suffering from fits of dementia. Those episodes could be short and fast just as quickly as they came on. Or they could last days, even weeks. When he was suffering one of his earlier fits he had flashed back to World War II. He saw Kurt as a Jew and he had tried to hid Kurt from Burt when his father angrily confronted Kurt about his unfinished homework, abandoned so that the young ball of energy could play with his cousins at a park within their housing community.

The then sixty-one-year-old man grabbed a ten-year-old Kurt and stood in front of him protectingly while speaking rapid German at the older Hummel. When his father finally understood what was happening he calmly stepped a way and retreated into his house to call the man's family. Thirty minutes, a very calm conversation and a few apologies later, Kurt could be found clinging to his father and scared. It was only when his father assured him that the man had been trying to protect him but he was very sick and his head wasn't working right that Kurt understood. "Like mommy?" Kurt had questioned. All his father could say was yes and try not to cry in front of his son. It had been two years and yet he was still not completely done grieving. It was still just as hard to wake up every morning and not admit defeat to the world, to a God who'd taken such a beautiful, kind soul from the world. The woman he loved.

But he got up because Kurt was not only his mother's son physically but because that sparkle in his eyes, though they were visually most like Burt's, was every bit Elizabeth's. Her kind smile, he compassionate heart. And it was from this point in life that a young age Kurt knew his father needed him just as much as he needed his father, a man who accepted and loved him no matter what he was. Something that neither male could say of the rest of the Hummel clan. When a teenage Kurt had come out, the Hummels were the first of many who would reject and disown. Mr. Johanson however hadn't and so he was always someone Kurt would look upon fondly. He tried his best to help the man when he could and when he free time that was going unused he would visit him.

The man was one of the smartest people he knew, even if he was not aware of his surroundings half of the time.

As this memory slipped from his mind, he continued his walk while simultaneously going through his mental catalog of every article of clothing he own. It seemed to calm him, imagining the feel of an Alexander McQueen vest in-between his hands, the soft silk of a button up against his skin. Smiling happily, Kurt's joy was so rudely interrupted when he bumped into something hard but tender. Almost like...

Even as he stumbled backwards Kurt knew what, or more correctly, who he'd bumped into. This dude was persistent. Maybe he'd been promised popularity if he won Kurt over. Pissed, Kurt's glasz eyes became hard as steel.

"Are you so thick-skulled that you didn't you understand what I was trying to achieve by walking away? It's called a dramatic exit. Though I wouldn't expect anyone stupid enough-" Kurt's words were cut off when the boy from earlier with the hazel and gold eyes grabbed him around the waist and pulled him close, growling. The boy however seemed to notice how much he close he'd gotten, not wanting to 'catch the gay' as the neanderthals, he instantly took three steps back, looking down embarrassedly. Just as Kurt was about to fire off something smarmy about the other boy, he did something to surprise the diva.

"I'm sorry I freaked... just don't call me stupid again, okay? I'm not stupid."

So the seemingly perfect boy seemed to have a weakness. Kurt smiled and filed that knowledge away for later. Knowledge was power. Smirking and finally giving his "companion" an analytical once-over, Kurt wasn't at all intrigued by his rather adorable sense of fashion(if it was his; maybe he'd asked for some girl's help or something) or by the way his muscle were obvious under his jeans or his shirt. And he definitely didn't let his eyes linger on the zipper of his pants and even if he did he was surely just looking for something to mock him for.

"Alright. We can make a deal; you tell me who the hell you are and why you know my name, and I won't call you stupid. Deal?"

Kurt didn't understand why this prick wouldn't leave him alone. His attempt at seducing the "fag" failed royally. He was adorable, and if it was his own, his style was at the very least metrosexual to the max, if not a tad bit... twink-ish. Kurt knew he was a twink, a term that he was both suspicious and surprised to have first heard from the Puckster himself and the way he dressed was at times borderline tranny but he looked amazing and he wasn't going to change that for anyone, bullies be damned.

The prick was willing to go as far as to accuse Kurt of forgetting him somehow. "You really don't know who I am Kurt?" Eyes rolling, nearly to the back of his head, Kurt snorted and laughed somewhat cruelly.

"Lets not do the whole, youact-like-we've-met-before-and-I-feign-remembrance bit. We both know damned well that we've never met before and I don't know what you want or where you came from but I'm not in the mood for games. I still have to run through my moisturizing routine and pick out an outfit so if we're done here then I'm going to go because I have an hour-and-a-half left before school to get looking presentable."

Brushing past the boy and taking a second crack at a dramatic exit, Kurt brushed past the other boys musc- past his shoulder. His plain, everyday shoulder, and would've have made an exit that would have even had Rachael reeling if it hadn't been for the absurdity of the question that rang through the crisp morning air.

"Kurt... Don't you know what you are?"

It took seven words. Seven words for Kurt to completely lose it on this kid. He no longer felt a little bad that he didn't know what he was getting himself into. All he knew was that if someone didn't stop him soon, he was going to tear this kid to shreds. The diva and Ice-queen in him combined in the way they tended to do when Kurt was really losing the battle, causing his voice to become dangerously calm and his demeanor apathetic and cold.

"You stupid, ignorant jackass! I've known who I am for years. I'm Kurt fucking Hummel and I'm fucking fantastic. I'm every bit the 'fag' that your friends call me and I love it. From the moment I was born I've known how much better than you I am. It's not a question or a theory. I know. Because unlike you and the closeted, idiotic, close-minded, small-dicked asses you chose as your buds, I'm talented. I have more skill in him pinky than you've ever had in your entire life. BACK OFF!"

To punctuate his point however, it seemed that the window of his neighbors truck's windows seemed to instantaneously shatter, sending most of the glass on the driveway and in the bed of his, some getting on his seat. Flinching, and going from his everyday pale to looking like he'd seen a ghost, Kurt took off down the street to his house, not noticing that the other boy opted instead to fade from view and into a specter of light imperceivable to the naked eye.

If it wasn't enough that Kurt had so easily lost control, the fact that Kurt ran instead of trying to fix it or shifting into invisibility like Blaine had done, only confirmed his fears...

His witch had no idea what he was.

* * *

**A/N: **Basically what I said above. Did I mention I'd love you forever if you'd became my beta?


	4. You Again

Kurt was running hard and even though he knew that this morning's stop-go-stop-go run would be bad for his joints, he continued until he was at his front door. Not a long time since he only lived six houses down from Mr. J and the now windowless truck, but it seemed like an eternity. When he finally got to the door, Kurt slipped in and then slammed it shut, locking it with trembling hands. This was Lima, Ohio, and even if Kurt had been able to explain that neither boy had done it, evident by the majority of glass being on the outside of the truck, the owner would've probably punched one(or both) of them at best. This was the backwards, hicktown of Lima where people punched first, sobered up second, and then asked questions third.

Sliding down the door, Kurt almost felt like he should head back to help the boy, no matter how completely stupid or aggravating, but then he remembered the way the boy's casual button-up-shirt clung to his body and accentuated his broad-shoulders, defined chest and toned stomach in a way that almost had Kurt dead-panning. With his frame and speed the boy could easily stand up for himself or escape if need be. Kurt, while deceptively strong for his size and thin frame, wouldn't last up against anyone twice his height and weight, or at least half of Ohio's male population. Head between his knees as he caught his breath, Kurt snapped out of his reverie when his father's voice drifted to his ears. Looking up, he could see his father coming to crouch in front of him, the descension taking slightly longer and making a few more audible noises than the last time Kurt remembered them taking such a position.

"Kurt. You okay?"

Smiling softly at the tenderness in his father's voice Kurt nodded. "I heard something or someone and it spooked me and I couldn't shake the feeling that I was being watched so I ran home." Not necessarily a lie, as they'd all been true at one point or another, but not the truth either.

"Why don't you get up stairs and I'll make breakfast and you can get ready. Wake Finn up too won't you?" He said to his son with a gentle smile before kissing his forehead and standing up, Kurt noting that, again his father's joints seemed to ache and creek a bit more than usual. Next doctor's visit he'd bring it up.

Standing he hugged his dad with one arm quickly before jogging up the stairs, trying to keep up the show that everything was okay. Knocking on Finn's door gently Kurt peeked in only to hear a yelp of surprise as Finn jumped and tried to pull the covers up. Blushing hard and closing the door almost all the way again Kurt tried not to laugh as he spoke.

"Oh sorry Finn... Dad sent me up to wake you up but I guess that's not necessary. I'll see you for breakfast."

Still with flushed-cheeks Kurt scurried off to his room to finish his morning routine; another shower, though a much quicker one, skin and face care, and outfit-choosing...

* * *

Blaine didn't need to run because by the time the man had come out of his house in a bathrobe the car was fixed and he was long gone. Blaine walked at a slow and easy pace, heading towards Mrs. Catarina's house. He walked through the door and welcomed by the scent of eggs and bacon and sausage. Mrs. C really did spoil him, especially since her closest kids and grandkids lived two towns over. She made Blaine feel like he was home, something he could hardly say about his parents. Ever since he'd came out of the closet, his parents had been avoiding any possibly related subjects and never mentioned any of his friends.

His mother had taken it hardest though his father was a very close second. The only one who didn't seem shocked, surprised and appalled was Coop. Human like his mother, but a talented singer, dancer and actor, Coop had simply laughed and made some comment, something along the lines of "Are we going to send out some brightly colored newsletter or are we just going to all accept the fact that most people already guessed..." and then something about Blaine's bowties, something Blaine would've laughed at had the situation be less dire.

Heading towards the kitchen, Blaine sat at the table in the dining room and absent-mindedly thanked the woman as he thought long and hard about the events of this morning. The only thing that really snapped him out of it was Mrs. C's question. "Huh?" Blaine said blushing, embarrassed that he'd been caught not listening.

"Oi vey. I said, 'How'd it go with you're witch'." She smiled fondly even as she teased him.

"Oh... well see that's the problem. He either isn't a witch or doesn't know it."

"Well we both know he's most definitely a witch, I wouldn't have been stationed here four years ago if he wasn't. And you saw how powerful he is. Did you see his Light? It's absolutely blinding."

"Yeah, I guess you're right. But then why doesn't he know? He lost control, broke some windows and then instead of fixing him he looked terrified and ran off." Sighing Blaine took another bite of his eggs.

"He was Elizabeth's child. Maybe she never told him or maybe she passed before his powers surfaced. Or maybe she'd been hoping that after her magicks were bound and her powers stripped, that he'd turn out like the father, with enough human blood to override her magic blood." Mrs. C suggested.

"But could she be that cruel? I mean she never ever told or helped him? And even if that was true, even if she had hoped for such a thing, don't you think she would've at least told her husband what to look out for?"

"I don't know Liebling. I just don't know." Shrugging, Mrs. C, a witch and Protective Eye for witches who were just coming into power and/or waiting for their partner, took her empty plate too the kitchen before returning. "I'm sure things will right themselves in time. Now hurry up and eat. You'll be late for school if you don't quicken your pace."

* * *

Kurt knew that this morning would be no different than any other, a thought that he registered as he pulled into McKinley's parking lot. He'd tried to slip past the jocks in the flow of people but someone would spot him sooner or later and they'd throw him in the trash-can. That's why he wore a pair of old, slightly grease-stained jeans and a v-neck in the same condition. He had a change of cloths in his bag, two actually, one for after the trash can and the other in Mercedes' P.E. locker case he got slushied.

Grabbing his bag from the passenger seat, Kurt, as per usual, gracefully exited from the car in one fluid motion and checking his bag and clothing. As he only half-tried to slip into the crowd, Kurt was with two feet of the door when he heard the oh-so-clever nickname he'd been given by the jocks.

"Hey you fuckin' fairy, get your ass over here."

Sighing, Kurt turned and walked over knowing the futility in trying to resist. With a roll of his eyes Kurt handed his bag to one of the jocks and allowed himself to be lifted. Closing hsi eyes Kurt waited for the smell that would seep into his clothes and become impossible to fully get out. But it never came. Instead he heard a voice. A familiar voice.


End file.
